We Can't All be Heroes
by asshescreams
Summary: Summary: “We can’t all be like you, Potter. We can’t all be heroes.”…”you could have been mine.” HPDM, postwar SLASH rating for language, may change..only follows up to the fifth book
1. Chapter 1

**We can't all be heroes**

**Summary: **"We can't all be like you, Potter. We can't all be heroes."…"you could have been mine." HPDM, post-war

Warning: slash

The halls of Hogwarts, weeks earlier filled with students, running to get to classes, hanging out in the halls, laughing, joking, excited for the summer holidays, were completely deserted. Deserted that is for me and the raven haired boy who was walking dejectedly about a hundred feet in front of me, while I tried to work up the nerve to do what I had to do. I didn't know how it was going to work out, or even why I had to do it. All I knew was that I had to find a way to fix things, things that could never be fixed, a hate that was stronger than any other emotion left over from the War. But that was only half true. The whole truth, on the days I felt like admitting it to myself was that I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him. No matter how much he hated me.

"Hey Potter! POTTER! Wait up!"

He turned around. "What the fuck do you want Malfoy?" he said, his voice the same dull tone he'd been using for the last three months.

"I just wanted…" Shit. I can't believe I'm doing this. "just you know…just wanted to say…ask…if you're…okay." My brain watched in horror as my mouth came up with those words. Nice going, Draco.

Before I knew it, his fist was colliding with my jaw, hard enough to knock me off my feet. My wand flew out of my pocket, and before I could reach for him, his foot was coming down on it, snapping it in half. Not that I would have used it against him anyway…I think at that moment if he had wanted to kill me I would have let him.

"What the _fuck _is wrong with you?" He was almost shouting. "Do you fucking _enjoy_ rubbing it in my face? I lost my best friends, the closest thing I had to a family, and my fucking girlfriend, and half of those were on account of _you_ so how dare you even show your face in the same fucking room as me?"

My mouth took over again before my brain could react. "I wasn't rubbing it in your face." It said icily. "I just thought that since we're going to be living together for the next god-knows-how-long I just thought we might as well learn to be civil to one another, _Potter_."

"Well _Malfoy, _I don't see any reason at all to be civil to Death Eater scum like you."

"I'm not a Death Eater. I came over to your side."

"Yeah, you did, didn't you? Because you were _scared._ You knew that Voldemort-" he saw me noticeably flinch at hearing the name, "-that _Voldemort_ had no more use for you, and of course he has no reason to keep his supporters around when he has no use for them, does he? So you came over to the good side, because you knew we'd protect you. _Even though you don't deserve it._ Because that's what being the good guy is all about, isn't it? It had nothing to do with being strong or brave or wanting to do the right thing. It all worked out pretty conveniently though, didn't it? Since you just _happened _ to be on the right side at the right time, you didn't pay for anything you did. You make me sick, _Malfoy._"

"I deserved that," I admitted, "and it's true. But we can't all be like you Potter. We can't all be heroes."

"You could have been mine."

I gaped at him.


	2. Chapter 2

We Can't All Be Heroes

Chapter 2

I gaped at him.

"How could I be _anything_ to you? You never looked at me twice." I said.

For a second a look passed across his face. I couldn't quite figure out what emotion his expression conveyed.

"You're right. You don't mean shit to me. Don't talk to me again." He walked away.

I watched him until he turned a corner and I couldn't see him anymore. I knew going after him would be useless. He had a wand and I didn't, and he wouldn't be afraid to hex me until I couldn't walk for a week.

I picked up my wand and sighed. My parents were both in Azkaban, my other relatives were dead. My father's money was now in the hands of the ministry. I had no money for a new wand.

Suddenly the loss of my wand was overwhelming. This stick of wood had been with me for almost seven years…since the first time I saw _him…_through everything. I slumped against the wall sliding down until I was sitting on the floor. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed.

Slowly, my pain turned to rage. Not towards him…no, I couldn't blame him for acting the way he did. Towards myself. And everything I'd done wrong, what I could have done instead. My thoughts raced.

Before I knew it, my head was slamming into the wall. For a second my thoughts were so jumbled that I didn't know what happened. All I knew was that the throbbing pain in my head brought me momentary relief from the overwhelming emotions I was feeling.

My attention turned once again to my destroyed wand. I thought about all it had done, all the torture, the Unforgivable Curses it had committed for me, and I dropped it to the floor as though it burned my skin. I stood up and my foot came down on it, over and over again, until it was just splinters of wood. _I don't deserve this. I don't deserve to have the gift of magic. I'm no pureblood…a true pureblood follows their beliefs, no matter the consequences. They don't just give in to what is _expected_ of them. Granger is more of a pureblood than I am. _I thought disgustedly.

I walked away without looking back. I vowed to give up magic for good. I wasn't good enough for it.


	3. Chapter 3

The disgust towards myself and all that I had done stayed with me for weeks. I couldn't look at myself in the mirror without feeling sick. When Christmas Day came, and no presents came for me I was relieved. I obviously didn't deserve anything.

It seemed ages until Christmas vacation ended, and the halls and dorm rooms were once again full, but once it came I wished to be alone again. The chatter of what had been done over vacation, who had hooked up with who, the expensive presents everyone had gotten, though subdued by the recent war was depressing. I remembered years before when I had been part of that chatter, when I had bothered to pretend to be happy, and sometimes even convinced myself. _I never want to pretend__again, _I told myself.

I now refused to participate in the classes that involved performing magic. This lost many points from Slytherin, and gained me many detentions, but I was committed to my decision to abstain from magic.

Occasionally, I saw Harry in the halls, the Great Hall, or classes, but Dumbledore had done everything he could to keep our schedules separate, per Harry's request I assumed. When I saw him, I could feel a churning in my stomach, and a mixture of admiration, guilt, and hurt passed over me.

There were many familiar faces missing from Hogwarts. Crabbe and Goyle were serving in Azkaban, and Pansy, my first and only ex-girlfriend had been transferred to Durmstrang. Many members of the other houses had been killed in the war, or had lost too many family members and had been forced to leave to support their families.

Due to Hogwarts being closed for half of the last year, because of the war, Dumbledore had declared that year, which would have been my seventh year, not worth any credit, so everyone was repeating a year. I had only returned to finish my education, so I could support myself once I graduated, because Hogwarts was the only school who would now accept me, because of the crimes that had been charged against me, although my case was suspended, and because only part of me could admit, to be near Harry, as self-abusive as that might be.

I had taken to the habit of punching myself, or banging my head, whenever my emotions became too overwhelming. Because it was winter, I wore long sleeves to cover the bruises (I was used to covering bruises), and even though I had started getting severe headaches I kept it to myself.

As time passed, my guilt subsided, although still painful and intense, it became bearable to the point where I didn't have to hurt myself as often or as much. I started to talk a little more than I had been- which had been minimal- and I managed to carry on a normal conversation with my old friends. It was still horrible to see Harry in the hall, and I wasn't anywhere near ready to forgive myself, but I was slightly better.

It didn't help at all that I could see Harry hurting as much as I was. His pain was a lot more than my self loathing and pity; He had lost nearly everyone he loved over the past years, and he had a look of emptiness about him. Occasionally when I passed him in the halls he would return my glances with something that almost seemed like longing in his eyes.

One day in Potions class, I could see him head to head, murmuring with Granger, the only living member of his close friends. As I passed them on the way out of the class, I heard him mutter to her, "I can't do this anymore."

Before I knew it he was next to me, looking reluctant and disgusted, but also with a light I hadn't seen in his eyes since two years before.

"Are you still willing to talk?" He asked quietly.

"Of course." I answered, shocked hopeful, and very scared.

"Follow me," he requested, and I followed him to the entrance of the Room of Requirement.

We entered, and he started to talk.


End file.
